His Howling
by BornWolfgirl
Summary: There it was again. Like clockwork every month. That infernal Howling. Why? Will eventually be rated M but not yet.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own naught but the plot.

It's just a start but I've been making good progress on it. Reviews are a writers sustenance. Good or bad. We love them all. Also if anyone wants to beta this and help me edit I'm open to ideas at this point. With that, I bid you adieu and enjoy!

He was howling again. Even locked deep within the beastly mind with barely a human thought left, he could hear the low mournful cry echoing through every bone in this twisted body. Calling, screaming in its own monstrous way, for something. Someone actually.

The imagery of a trembling form in black robes and lanky black hair flashes frequently through the beast mind. Tormenting it with the scent of fear, blood, and…. Something else that Remus human mind can't quite grasp. Whatever it is, it fascinates the wolf. Causing it to call, month after month, year after year. Tormenting the human within with guilt and regret. Guilt that by allowing his friends to find out about him and join him each month, he had inadvertently breached the defenses that were put in place to keep others safe from him, and someone did just that. They breached them and almost died. Regret eats at him, that the one person who did was someone whom he had been friends with in secret for years, along with Lily and a small group. It was the year they lost him to the dark side, and he feared that his encounter with the werewolf only made it worse. After that night the other boy wouldn't even look at him.

Thirteen years later they are thrust back together, no longer rival students but as colleagues for a brief time, but the fear and revulsion are still there. Along with pain and sadness though only if you know what to look for. All attempts to talk are met with sharp retorts that cut too deep to heal any time soon. So, with even more regret, Remus retreats to lick his wounds in peace. He doesn't hate him for the words though. How can he… He agrees with every one of them.

Two years later they clash again, but this time Remus is ready. He is tired. Tired of apologizing and tired of trying to please everyone else but himself. This time they managed to simi-successfully avoid each other and do their jobs at least. Secrets are revealed and at unacknowledged truce is made as war consumes their lives.

Then Sirius dies, and it's almost the final straw to break the wolfs back. He is there though. Silent and unassuming, but a shadow that follows him relentlessly from pub to pub, as Remus tries to drown his sorrows for a dozen people. Damn werewolf metabolism. He doesn't recall how he got back to Grimmauld Place that night or even how he got into a bed. But it's close to the full moon and even his human senses can catch a brief waft of that scent. Something shifts inside him.

The wolf does not like the wild packs. He has always been an alpha and to submit to any other was impossible, though he tired at first. During his time with them, he'd often wake after to moon with broken bones that didn't transition right. He did the best he could between moons with negotiations, but he learned quickly to sum it up before the full moon and shift in seclusion. Some understood but many pack alphas used it as an excuse to refuse him. If he could not run with them then they wouldn't even, consider running with him. It all proved futile in the end. When it came to the war and whose side they would be on, all but the most bloodthirsty had already made up their minds.

Neutrality.

This was a wizard conflict and unless brought to their lands is was none of their business. What had the wizarding world ever done for them? Nothing and unfortunately, for every neutral, there were just as many bloodthirsty youths, looking for a fight to sink their teeth into. Voldemort lapped them up with glee.

Indeed, the final battle was bloody. The loss was heavy on both sides. Not the least being his beloved Dora. Wife and mother for such a short time, but never to be forgotten. He watched helplessly from across the field as she falls lifeless and his own vision goes black. In that moment, he prays he is soon to join her.

But amazingly he does not.


	2. Chapter 2

The wolf was howling again. Merlin, he wished it would stop. Every month like clockwork, there was that damn howling. It didn't matter where he was. And what was worse was that on those nights he couldn't sleep.

At first, it would lead him into a panic. Remembering the jaws dripping with their cursed bile, hot breath on his face and piercing golden eyes that seemed to devour him where he stood. Even now, years later, the mark of the beast tingles with remembrance where its claws scored the skin on his left side.

Damn that fool Sirius Black to hell, and James Potter too for that matter. They ruined everything. Took what little he had, and just kept living on like nothing had changed… Everything had changed that night. They tried to kill him, took away one of the few remaining friends he'd had at that time, and he was the one punished. It was the beginning of the end that night.

Would they even be surprised that it was because of them that he dove even deeper into the dark arts? At first to protect himself from their torment, then to save one of them. How could they know that they had sparked an obsession to find a solution to a furry little problem. He can admit only now that his loss is partly his fault as well. The distress of that encounter had driven him to do some the worst and greatest things in his life. It dove him into the arms of the dark lord who promised him power and protection, but it also drove him to invent the Wolf's Bane Potion. It was a greatly improved an older version that was a failed attempt to curing the diabolical disease. His research, however, took him down dark paths that even Lily couldn't follow him down. She knew though, and she supported him for the most part… until that fateful day and that hateful label passed his lip. She would eventually forgive him but not until she was placing her squirming bundle of joy in his arms and begging him to help her protect it.

And what else could he do… he agreed, of course.

He had made many mistakes in his life up to that point, but he often wonders if perhaps that decision was the one that sealed their prophesized fate. The next day her and Potter were dead. But not before Severus and Lily cast some of the most powerful dark and light spells to protect her child. Perhaps it was one of them that tipped the scales that night. Perhaps it was none of them.

It sealed his fate too. He had failed to save Lily, but he was magically bound to continue protecting her son.

Thirteen years later and the wolf waltzes back into his ordered life. He was angry. Furious and heartbroken to once again be forced to face his greatest fear and regret.

Alone, he had been left to suffer the loss of two friendships without word or warning. Just a cold silence and memories he could never forget. Not that he really wanted to. He'll admit in his own mind it was childish to lash out the way he had but after thirteen years…

This time the werewolf didn't frighten him though. But it sparked the obsession anew. He found the cure. Not that he would tell anyone… Yet.

A few years later and he watched as the fool tried to kill himself. He couldn't understand really. Nothing but the strongest alcohol would make it past the wolfs metabolism. But he was making a valiant attempt to get pissed to be sure. Six pubs and an unknown number of bottles of various booze later, the wolfs formidable constitution finally gives out. Luckily, it happens in an ally while Remus pisses for the tenth time that night. After toppling sideways into a pile of garbage bags, Severus has the awkward task of tucking him back into his pants before casting a double featherlight charm and apparate him back to the relative safety of Grimmauld Place.

He finally manages to get him into the closest bedroom before carefully removing the out layer of clothing and shoes. If fingers linger longer than necessary, he doesn't notice. The room is somewhat chilly, so he locates a ratty but thick throw in a chest and tosses it over the other man. He pauses though as he reaches for the candle to leave. In sleep, the other man looks much more his age. The scares relax reducing creases and his hair seems to glow with a touch of gold in the candlelight. Severus finds himself staring without thought for several moments until the wolf suddenly stirs and his eyes blink open with piercing awareness. For several seconds there is complete silence, as Severus holds his breath. Golden eyes flash and a shiver of apprehension spikes down his spine.

"Mine." The wolf/man growls low.

Severus gasps and backs away from the bed, "What!"

"My mate… Mine…" The beast growls once more. Then the glow fades and the eyes close once more for a final time.

Severus flees without looking back.

The Battle is fierce. People are dying in droves on either side. The Chosen One was nowhere to be seen, and neither was the wolf. His wife, the witch with wonder hair, was battling two death eaters near one of the outer parapets. Then he spotted him. On the other side of the field battling back to back with another order member… the wolf… his mate. After many nights alone to reflect with a bottle of fine cognac, he had accepted that now.

There were more important things to worry about now, but there was one more thing he had to do before facing that. Soon he would need to find the boy before it was too late, and his master would me making the final call for him. He just hoped he wasn't too late.

Battling fiercely across the field towards the man who had shaped so much of his life, images flash in Severus mind of every pivotal moment that brought him here. Many were because of him while others he was simply there, somewhere in the background. He had to finish what he started all those years ago. If he could save no one else on this field, he would save this one.

One more spell and… the wolf howled.


End file.
